Acceptably Alone
by Adelaide E
Summary: Though assumptions of spitefulness and apathy shrouded her, no one truly knew the heart of the powerful goddess. Plagued by pangs of unhappiness and hidden in the shadows of heaven, she finds a joy borne out of pure pain…


I'd like to send a belated thanks to all the reviewers of Cruelly Condemned, and then explain that this fiction is based on the idea that Hephaestus had been borne without the help of that half witted yet fully fertile moron. Also I apologize for any errors, as this was written during the wee hours of morning, which are so "wee" that I didn't have much time for editing.

Acceptably Alone

By Adelaide E

There were all sorts of ways to weep. For every woman brought into the world, there was to be a new manner of crying to be learned and admired and pitied.

The soft, whimpering type that practically begged for the accidental discovery by a soft hearted and amorous centaur. The loud, wailing sort that was only approved of when mourning the loss of a man or a husband. And the least painful and joyous way, in which stupid, ignorant girls wept abundantly at the thought of their future with their new husband.

But the hardest, the most excruciating, the one nobody, not even a goddess could ever conquer...

Was crying in silence.

Choking on sobs so that he wouldn't find her, and sneer. Tasting the tears and frantically wiping them away, only to find, in horror, that her damned eyes were replacing them just as quickly.

And all the time thinking, _What if he sees? What if he sees me, like _this Because if he did, _oh no, if he did_...he would hate her, disrespect her, even more than he did now. If that were possible.

But trust him, as powerful as he was unerringly stupid, to make the impossible possible.

Such as raping a woman, his kin, and then somehow managing to make her love him. Without effort, without awareness, without...a heart.

She remembered, just the other day, or century, how he talked to her under the semblance of civil conversations. She recalled how he exquisitely cut her heart, how his honeyed tones seared her soul to ashes.

_"How can you be the goddess of marriages, when you've no idea how to manage your own?"_

It hurt. It hurt more than he knew, more than she would have ever imagined. And she became colder, playing the part he expected of her...what everyone expected of her.

_"How can you be the protector of childbirth, when you constantly attempt to prevent such things from ever taking place?"_

He was beautiful when he was cruel. And she had to look away to preserve her role. Her eyes did not know how to play actress.

He was stupid when he tore at her. For she was so much _more_.

She was the goddess of marriage. She was the goddess of false smiles. No one but a goddess of her strength could perfect those artificial smirks with such success, so _necessary_ in a functional union.

She was the goddess of childbirth. She was the goddess of fallen dignity. Who else but a goddess of her humility could kill her pride, murder her self confidence to lay with her hateful husband, and produce those ungrateful children. Who else but this goddess?

Possibly others. Possibly others...she never quite knew these days just who else was weeping inside their flawless cages...

Divinity, however, guaranteed her at least a few constants in life. One being that she was strong, quite possibly the strongest female in history. Her husband could ravish a mortal woman just a few feet away, and she would not shed her invulnerability for even one tear, one tiny frown of sadness. Not for his satisfaction, endless as it was, would she ever, _ever_, let him see how much it hurt.

For she was the reigning goddess, the most feared queen of the world, and could endure more pain than her dear spouse could ever imagine.

And so, she stood in concealment, shoulders shaking as they struggled to maintain her dignified stance. She didn't know why it mattered, why she continued to care, when it was his right and all the other males in the world did it...but it simply did. And it simply _ached and burned and bled_ inside when he underestimated her intelligence by thinking his innocuous fabrications would hide his temporary paramour.

And it was so incredibly stupid to envy those female heroines, those future mothers of heroes and demigods, when she possessed more power and treasure than all of them combined.

Then, in these moments of disbelieving jealousy, an insidious voice would whisper, _Because they were loved._

Briefly, by him, just as he had fallen in and out of love with her in a limited amount of time.

The love of children, strong and dependable...those mortal vessels had the privilege of possessing. She wanted that, damn it. She was a goddess, married to the All Powerful himself. Why couldn't she have that _lovable_ child who loved her regardless of her faults, regardless of her rages, regardless of her reputation? Those mortal women had them. Why couldn't she?

Because her husband no longer desired her. And, despite his perpetual habit of doing so, she had neither the heart nor courage to seek another's assistance in creating life.

With a small hiccup, she realized this emotional weakness was drawing to a close, and hastily wiped away any remnants of sadness from her exquisite visage. Truth be told, she didn't know exactly if he would sneer at her weeping, or become bewildered by any sign of emotion from her. Or if, as he had done when she regrettably decided to rescue the poor, ruffled bird, he would simply dismiss her cries as silly and false, traits of all women.

It shouldn't have been too difficult to find love, somewhere. Real, genuine, love borne from an independent and sound mind...not worthless fools beseeching her for a blessing.

And she couldn't do it alone...

She couldn't do it alone...

She couldn't...

She _couldn't_? In all her extensive life, she had never heard of a goddess, let alone wife of the ruler of the gods, being _unable_ to do anything. And if that buffoon of a husband of hers could produce normal, doting children so easily on his own accord, then possibly...

"Why?" was the outraged roar that shook her from her reverie. Swiftly approaching was the love and hate of her life himself. "She did nothing wrong! She did nothing to you!"

Other than make a mockery of her, of the life she had been forced into...yes other than those things, nothing at all...

"I was bored," was the callous reply she tossed effortlessly at him, infuriating him enough to send him away. Into the arms of another.

"Just stop punishing them," he warned dangerously as he strode away.

And she would, truly she would, on her life she would...if he would simply stop doing the same to her.

But no matter. She would transfer all her feelings, as blind and stupid as they were, to the new male soon to be in her life. Yes, she had already decided her off spring would be a boy, for girls were useless, easily manipulated things. And he would be all hers, all her own...and it would be _wonderful_.

The end.


End file.
